


Say Yes to Distress

by Regrettablewritings



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Wedding Dresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 22:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16982958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regrettablewritings/pseuds/Regrettablewritings
Summary: Saturday mornings and the color white: Two seemingly innocuous things. This Saturday morning, however, they’re causing Rafael nothing but anxiety.





	Say Yes to Distress

“C’mon, c’mon, _c’mon_! We’re gonna be late if you don’t speed up!”

How interesting it was for you to make such a statement, given that Rafael could only go as fast as your tugging from ahead allowed him. At least, it _would_ have been interesting, had you not roused the man from his sleep in such an abrupt manner. Rafael Barba was a very busy man and one who had learned long ago to appreciate what downtime he had to the best of his ability. So if there ever was an opportunity to sleep in, he would sleep like a rock after capping a night out on the town with some hard liquor. And he was quite grateful to share such a trait with you. Curled up, your back to his chest, being the big spoon to your little spoon underneath the comforting shield of the duvet with the familiar sounds of the bustling city below your apartment playing in the background – _that_ was how he liked his Saturday mornings. 

_Not_ being woken up to your cold hands smooshing his cheek after he failed to respond to your whispers or even shaking him. And certainly not getting marched out of bed, into the shower for only five minutes, a quick breakfast of Eggo waffles (weekends were usually the only time he could even _get_ breakfast!), and out the door to the rowdy streets of New York. He much preferred this sound to be on the other side of the window, rather than up in his ears. However, the honking of car horns and rattle of construction and shouting of commuters was almost drowned out, if not for you taking up the most of his attention with your incessant command: “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” You’d been saying it since he’d lumbered out of bed. And he’d been asking why since the Eggo waffles.

Yet, in all this time, with all the twists down crowded streets and buzzing at crosswalks, he wasn’t any closer to getting his answer. That is, until you came to a halt, nearly causing him to slam against you. You, however, remained unfazed sans for the panting caused by your running.

“Okay,” you said between gasps of breath. “Okay … We … We made it in decent timing.” In the moments it had taken Rafael to catch his own breath, he managed to take in a few images: The first being that you had stopped behind a concentrated crowd of women; the second was that the concentrated crowd was, in fact, more like a blob attempting to be a line; and the third was that this line of chattering and squealing women all led to one building: Something New-tique.

His eyes narrowed at the title. Something about it seemed familiar. He’d walked this street before plenty of times, yet he never paid much mind to the shops here. Maybe he glanced at this particular shop’s way once, now what was it –

As his eyes shifted downward below the sign, he could _just_ make out the display windows over the sea of chittering heads. In each, adjusted into graceful poses, were mannequins dawning different but still quite recognizable, white dresses with flowing headpieces.

_… A bridal boutique?_

“Alright!” you chirped, having finally regained stability in your aching heart and lungs. “So the story is, we’ve been together for two years – ”

“We _have_ been together for two years,” Rafael interjected, brows furrowing over his exhausted eyes.

(You shot him a gentle glare for interrupting you.) “ – and we plan on getting married in Miami where your dear mother lives.”

“What are you – !? She lives here in the city, we just had brunch with her last Sunday!” By now, the already accumulating sense of frustration within Rafael was coming to a heat strong enough to break through the exhausted fog that he still found himself mostly lost in.

You didn’t seem to register his point, however, as you continued with, “She wants to see her precious baby Rafi get married before she goes on tour as a roadie for the Gipsy Kings – ”

“What is going on, (Y/N)!?” Rafael finally demanded. “I’ve had it up to _here_! First you wake me up, drag me out, you don’t even tell me what’s going on – ”

“Ssssshhhh!” you hissed, pressing a finger to Rafael’s lips midsentence. Obviously, he was not as amused as you were. Granted, he couldn’t see how ridiculous he now looked. Retrieving your finger, you finally gave him the answer he’d been demanding all along: “Okay, soooo …” You began to fidget. A nervous habit. You sucked in some air through your teeth.

“So it’s trunk show day and I kinda sorta … may’ve scheduled an appointment.” Despite your voice drifting into whisper territory and despite Rafael’s current desire for a bed, he managed to hear the last part of your revelation. And what a revelation it was. Or maybe it wasn’t. He did swear he could’ve heard you mentioning something something trunk something blah blah, about a billion cups of coffee during a hard case ago. Regardless, his sleepy mind couldn’t revive such a memory.

“¿Que?” Rafael responded quizzically, brows held high.

“Okay, so you gotta schedule for these things, y’know?” you started. Rafael nodded, eyes narrowing once more. He was only going to be able to give you so much time to explain yourself. “Well, there was a cancellation so I swooped in and snagged that bitch before anyone else could!” You gently pounded a fist into the palm of your other hand for emphasis. You shot your weary boyfriend a smirk that glowed blindingly with pride. Rafael did not return it, however, likely wishing you had never gotten the slot in the first place. Then maybe he could’ve been left back at home to his own devices or lack thereof. Speaking of which …

“Okay, well, what does that have to do with me?” he huffed, trying not to fold his arms with irritation. The moment he showcased pouting would be the moment you’d stop and just coo over him and he sure as hell wasn’t having that on top of everything else you’d already done in less than an hour.

Back to fidgeting. Only this time, your eyes drifted to the side, away from where your boyfriend’s face was.

“Well …” you lulled. “You have an eye for fashion, Sweetie. I thought it’d be nice to have you around. You know – ” Regaining your previously playful nature, you gently nudged him. “ – maybe help me find something; see something you like.” You shot Rafael a gleeful smile, brought back into complete excitement by the prospect of trying in dresses. “This is gonna be so much fun!” you proclaimed, voice high yet quiet as you looped your arm with his.

“Oh, and just a heads up: no one-sleeved dresses. I dunno, something about them … Makes me feel like I’d have to wear really dramatic makeup to go with it.” And with that, you set your sights forward at the backs of the multiple, equality excited women with a speckle of their soon-to-be spouses.

Rafael, on the other hand, did not share your enthusiasm. In fact, he did not share the same existence on the page you had flipped to and he wore such disgruntlement vaguely on his face. You yanked him out of bed … _to help you look at dresses?_ As much as Rafael loved to help you dress up, mornings of rest simply weren’t the times he necessarily looked forward to such. At this thought, Rafael’s frown lessened. Come to think of it, you were sometimes even worse of a morning person as he was. Nuisance event or not, this visit had to be pretty damn meaningful for you to not only get up out of bed on a weekend, but to make certain that he came along, too –

…

Wait … Surely you weren’t thinking of –

Suddenly, every trace of exhaustion evaporated in the startled blink of Rafael’s widening eyes. Rafael hoped you were kidding. He wanted to say something. But he couldn’t think of the something he wanted to say. So he remained in a stunned silence, your excited form oblivious to his state of shock.

When Something New-tique opened and the crowd of women began to move forward, Rafael went along like a leaf in the current: thoughtless, with little control over where he went.

+++++++

Rafael tried not to look anxious. Tried not to jiggle his leg, scratch at the fabric of the little white couch he’d taken a seat on, tried to focus his attention elsewhere. But everywhere he looked, his sights would inevitably land on the same image: Bride after bride, decked out in white. Screeching with her friends over finding the perfect fit, arguing with their mothers over a disagreement on fashion, tearing up at her reflection once the veil was placed on her head to complete her look.

It didn’t matter that Rafael’s job had made him used to the clamoring of reporters and the glare of their flashbulbs: This was, by far, the most chaotic and overwhelming situation he’d ever been in. And not helping was Rhonda, the consultant who’d been assigned to help you.

With perfume clinging to her every movement and her red lips fixed in a customer-friendly grin, she offered Rafael the complimentary “treats” (cucumber water, chocolate-covered almonds from Italy) and fussed over how you were already glowing as you recounted to her your “story.”

“Ooohhh, and aren’t you two just the cutest!” Rhonda cooed. You nodded happily, a coy expression spreading across your face. While this look would normally make Rafael weak, it instead seemed to be Rhonda doing all the gushing; Rafael just sat there, uncertain of what to make of the situation. 

“It’s so wonderful to trust this fox to be in the hen house, hun,” Rhonda praised. She glanced at Rafael, who merely looked awkward amongst the hustle and bustle of the shop as many other fiancés she’d seen in the past. Throwing him a wink, she declared, “Don’t worry, Rafael, I’ll have your bride jacked in no time!” Rafael could only nod quietly out of instinct. He said nothing, even as his glazing eyes watched you retreat with Rhonda towards the dressing rooms.

Rafael opened his mouth as if to say something, then closing it when he managed to realize that there would be nobody around to hear it. Not as though he had any complete thoughts to say anyway. Not with all the inward panic.

Bride. Bride? _Bride!?_ The word became a bullet in Rafael’s head. One that shot forward and broke the already buckling dam. The thoughts spilled out, muddying up the previously tidy headspace of one of the DA’s finest.

_She’s hinting she’s hinting she’s hinting –_

_Too soon too soon too soon –_

_Dresses excitement noise everywhere –_

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to marry you – far from it! If someone were to put a gun to his head and demand the truth, Rafael would admit, in confidence, that he did, indeed, want to marry you – _someday_. He just hoped that that ‘someday’ wasn’t any time too soon. Two years was just too short of a time for him, too short for a lot of people. He’d known plenty who got married within two years of dating, yes, but he also knew those same people to go on to have problems with their marriage. Well, assuming that the marriage had even lasted as long as their dating period. He didn’t want that; not with you. With you, Rafael wanted everything to be perfect: He wanted the time to clarify everything, get to know you at any angle he possibly could. And two years just wasn’t personally enough for him to do that. Hadn’t he told you that? Was this not something he’d expressed? Apparently not, seeing as you were now at a bridal boutique trying on dresses, seeking his approval. Rafael had never heard of this method but it made sense: Most women would drag their boyfriends to their own friends’ weddings to get him to take a hint. But most of your friends were already married – this was the next best thing! 

_Carajo_ , Rafael’s mind responded. _What do I even say to any of this?_ If he gave in, he’d marry you before he was ready and then a whole assortment of calamities were likely to ensue. If he tried explaining his hold-ups with you, there would be a good chance that you wouldn’t take it well. It wasn’t that you didn’t listen to him or were incapable of reasonable thought; you were just so excited, and perhaps he was a bit too old-fashioned in the ways of relationships. You could very well, in his belief, take his delay as a sign of disinterest. And then there would be no you in his life at all, to be married to or not. _There was no way to win this!_

In the middle of his inward panicking, Rafael picked up a shrill, customer service-trained voice: Rhonda.

“Yoohooo! Hubby!” she called, exiting the corridor leading to the dressing rooms. Rafael tried not to snap his eyes shut and cringe at that word. Marriage or not, there was no way in hell he’d let even you call him “hubby.” Rhonda didn’t seem to notice, lipsticked smile still painfully intact as she stopped beside a small pedestal before him. “The first dress is a short, A-line with sweetheart neckline with lace embellishments. Whaddya think?” 

On cue, one last figure emerged from the same corridor Rhonda had been in: Your figure. Your blushingly _smiling_ figure, decked out in a cute, lacy dress that reached just below your knees and gently flounce with every step you took towards the small pedestal to put yourself on display. Even in all his anxiousness, Rafael had to admit that it was a cute dress. Pretty, even, given that you were the one wearing it. But if he weren’t reminded of the situation he was in, he wouldn’t have taken it as a dress fit for getting married in. In fact, he was almost certain you owned something exactly like it and wore it on simple dates to the park. 

“Well?” you pushed. You gave a giddy twirl, causing the edging of the dress to ghost up and show a tulle petticoat underneath. “What do you think, Rafi? I mean, it’s cute but I’m not sure if I’m feeling it. Maybe your eagle eye will catch something?” You struck a pose, one hand on your hip and the other behind your head. Rafael stayed the same with only his eyes moving.

“I think we need to have a talk!” was what he _wanted_ to say, what _needed_ to be said. So why was it so hard!? In the end, he found it easier to respond with, “It looks like a homecoming dress.” Unfortunately, it was also easier to say it with a sense of disconnect; far from his usual air of sarcasm and wit. It was enough to cause you previously flirtatious smile to falter. At the sight of your grin deteriorating, Rafael’s heart began to follow suit, all the way down into his gut. 

_Nononono, por favor no_ – His mind scrambled between English and Spanish, both being frantic. Rafael really didn’t want to upset you like this. Like at all. But maybe … It was for the best? Before he could really process this thought, however, his mouth, going on autopilot, uttered an attempt at genuine query of, “Isn’t it – Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see his bride in her wedding dress?” At the consideration of your boyfriend’s concern, your smile returned. It wasn’t the same, glowing, coquettish one from before, it was surely better than the heart-stopping frown that had been in its place seconds earlier.

 _Nice save_ , Rafael weakly told himself.

“Well, Rafi,” you spoke, a slight giggle when you said his name, “I don’t think that that superstition applies to _everyone_. And certainly not us – I don’t doubt us. And I want you to play a big part in this because it’s important to me.” The raised brows and slow nod you received from your boyfriend didn’t look certain of your explanation. More like a confused puppy than anything. You couldn’t help but release a quiet ‘awww’ over it, stepping away from the pedestal and towards your sweetheart.

You didn’t care that you were in public when you placed your hand on his cheek (something typically reserved for times in privacy) and leaned forward to place a kiss on his forehead. “You’re so old-fashioned, you old cutie!” You took the growing blush on his face and the way those lovely eyes of his casted themselves aside to be a sign of acceptance. Pleased with yourself, you backed away before following Rhonda back to the dressing room to try on even more samples.

Normally, even with the slight hint of embarrassment from PDA, Rafael would have relished in the lingering feel of your lips on his skin. But alas, the moment you exited his line of site, the sweet feeling of your affections was banged from his head. In the place of the kiss lay the same words: “Old-fashioned”, “old”, both on repeat in various tones and visions of what they usually meant. It was no secret that for as good-looking as Rafael was, there was very much an apparent age difference. And while you did have some unease about this (especially at the start of your relationship), it was more-so born from a worry that he would recognize your youth as a hindrance. You actually _liked_ that he was older than you; made him all the more refined in your eyes, you had insisted. And while normally he was quite content and undeterred of your interesting relationship, he would be lying if he had ever said that there wasn’t some twinge of himself at _some_ point that considered the flaws of the situation.

Rafael found a mistake in letting his eyes wander away from your own. Had he kept them on you, he could at least see beauty (even if that beauty caused him some form of anxiety). But alas, he did not, and therefore was paying the consequences. While there weren’t many of them, there were fiancés scattered about the store. While there were some that he could not bring himself to call entirely handsome, there was something he _could_ agree upon for them all: They were all within the same age range as their betrothed. Something that you and he did not notably share. And, for the most part, the fiancés were young. Young, spry, able to bounce back with such ease despite recklessness, able to comprehend the same lingo that you often applied but he personally held very little interest in.

Rafael was pretty good for his age, if he had to say so himself, but perhaps it would be embellishing to say that he was _that_ good. He bit his lip in thought as he forced his optics back to the ground, staring at his shoes. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together. 

Could you two have a happy marriage? You were so lively and had so much ahead of you, regardless of your maturity. You weren’t the most outgoing person, something he had appreciated greatly in the past, but now he began to wonder if he was holding you back and you actually were holding everything in for his sake. If two years really was enough for you to decide upon matrimony, then of _course_ he would seem traditional. You never complained about his other “old-fashioned” traits before (waiting a while to meet his mother, waiting even longer to move in, waiting until the third date to kiss and _not_ try to get in your panties even after). But then, maybe you were just intrigued by his apparent antiquity. 

Maybe you didn’t _really_ like staying in and cooking dinner together, or dates to the opera or walks in the park. Maybe you’d much rather go on pub crawls and an occasional trip to a strip club and drink until you vomited out the entire ROY G. BIV spectrum –

 _Don’t think like that_ , part of Rafael’s mind scolded. The reasonable part. _Give (Y/N) more credit, she has no reason to lie about those things. She trusts you enough to be the real her around you._

 _Yeah, but the real her also wants you to buy her a rock after only two years_ , taunted another section, one that had been the source of a lot of sass in his youth. _Could your old ass even keep up?_

Sighing, he pressed a hand to his forehead. Of all the days to not bring ibuprofen with him –

“Okaayyy,” Rhonda sang. “I think you’ll _really_ like this one. What we have is from the spring collection: Paulina Targier-brand, very chic and fashionable!”

At first, Rafael didn’t look up. He had half a mind not to, unsure as to whether or not he could take much more of this. But as stubborn and disagreeable as he could be, it was never in Rafael’s ability to cause you grief. By the time he willed himself to drag his eyelids up and set his sights on you, however, he nearly had a heart attack.

Your face, pink with blush and topped with that cute smile he loved to admire so much, was just about the only think Rafael had expected. The dress, on the other hand, betrayed everything else Rafael thought a wedding dress could be aside from it being white. It hugged every delectable curve, entwining downward to create a waterfall effect with an abundance of fabric flowing about at the bottom. The straplessness caused it to cling to your chest, using an abundance of lace to cover up the necessaries. But your torso? 

The sheer fabric revealed so much of what Rafael thought only he was privy to, skin that he usually only ever saw during the moments you changed or walked around the apartment in a sports bra. Growing up, Rafael had been brought up believing that wedding dresses symbolized a sense of purity. _This_ dress, though? Pure, carnal sin. The kind that would probably make the entire thing catch ablaze as soon as you stepped a toe into church. Which, the naughtier part of Rafael’s mind threw in, was probably why the dress looked so much more like lingerie.

This was something you wore the night of the wedding, not act the actual ceremony!

And yet, with all of these criticisms, Rafael couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open and the blush from returning to his cheeks. Only none of it was born from embarrassment or adoration.

Taking his wordlessness as a good thing, Rhonda explained, “This is a mermaid-style, floor-length gown with a dropped waist cut and strapless sweetheart neckline. Now, pricing does start at $10,000 for this particular dress because it’s new, but we _do_ have similar styles of the same brand for cheaper in the back.”

The price didn’t seem to hit Rafael as he kept his eyes on you. You, on the other hand, were occupied with studying yourself in the multiple mirrors set behind the platform. You didn’t notice him subconsciously licking his lips as your hands smoothed over the silhouette of your waist, nor did you notice how much more flushed his face became as you leaned over and to observe your behind’s reflection.

“It’s a little tight . . .” you offered, unable to bend over too much. However, it was just enough to create a bit of a peak down your cleavage due to the sweetheart neckline. He could’ve fallen into that image and never allow himself out of it, had your voice calling for his name not risen him back to sensibility.

You were back to your upstanding position, hands poised quaintly. A stark contrast to the fabric behind them. “Rafi, are you okay?” you ask as you marginally cock your head. “You look a bit out of it.” You moved to come closer to him and inspect him yourself when Rhonda’s chuckling sounded from beside you.

“Oh, I’ve seen that look before,” she provided. “Especially with a Targier dress: Fiancés love these for obvious reasons.”

You pressed your lips together, training your eyes on Rafael’s vacant expression. “I don’t know . . .” you answered incredulously. “I’ve never seen him quite like this.” You glanced back at Rhonda. “Usually he’s such a motormouth; he’s barely said anything this entire trip.” You gave yourself pause as your eyes flickered up in thought, adding, “Then again, it is morning … I just thought he’d be more lively about this. Rafi _loves_ fashion.” 

The consultant nodded with understanding, her labor-enforced smile faltering just enough to portray sympathy. She turned back to Rafael. “You need some water, hun? It might not be much, but it might do you some good.” The quietness of Rafael’s acceptance of the offer bothered you a bit. More than a bit, if you thought enough about it. But as Rhonda told you to go ahead back to the dressing room to change, all you could offer was a worried glance back at your beloved. Rafael didn’t see it. Then again, he was not focusing on any part of your retreating figure. Not one to put yourself into vanity, you still found it puzzling to find your man not watching your fitted form leave. Even in his sophistication, Rafael was never one to not admire you. _Especially_ in a dress like this. As you turned a corner down the hall toward your dressing stall, the possibility that something more was amiss began to flourish.

 _Look on the bright side_ , the childish part of Rafael’s mind spoke up amidst the haze. _If you pop the question, you get all of_ that _to yourself. And when you get stressed about being married at all…_ The figment of his imagination let the sentence linger suggestively. It caused Rafael to sneer minimally yet still containing disdain. He pressed his cup of cucumber water to his warm face in an effort to cool both his skin and his thoughts. No such luck.

 _(Y/N) deserves better than that, pendejo!_ the adult part snapped. _She’s not just some piece of meat._

The childish part returned, _Si, but what do you expect when she’s walking around like that!?_

 _I expect you – us – me_ , Maturity lectured, t _o enjoy her for much more than that, married or not!_

_Fair enough … But getting to see her everyday, more or less looking like that is a pro, right?_

To that, Rafael couldn’t deny, much to his disgust. To make up for it, he tried thinking of other positives in married life with you:

1\. For the amount of time he’s been with you, he _does_ love you  
2\. You made him the happiest he’s ever been in a long while  
3\. He could make you smile  
4\. You already lived together, so moving is already a done deal  
5\. He wouldn’t be lonely  
6\. Your presence in his life. That was all that needed to be said  
7\. He _did_ want to marry you someday

But, of course, with the good came the bad:

1\. He loves you, but only as much as he could love someone whom he’s only been with for two years. There was still so much that he felt he needed to learn about   
you and vice versa  
2\. Maybe moving in together after only a year of dating was too soon  
3\. What if he wasn’t satisfied with your constant presence, and you his?  
4\. You were young; there was probably someone much better for you out there, someone younger than himself  
5\. He _did_ want to marry you someday … right?

That last part scared him the most. Came like an icy grip to every organ in his torso.

Rafael went to Harvard, a prestigious institute hailed for its output of esteemed members of society. He had been taught in various ways to argue the best and worst of cases, to hold firm when need be. He knew how to talk to get a point across and be validated. So why was he suddenly so unsure of himself? He didn’t notice the shaky exhale that quivered out of his lungs. He also failed to notice how the cup in his hand was trembling in his increasingly unsteady grip. He was too caught up in the buckling of his own mind, unable to find stability to make sense of everything. There were few times in his life that Rafael was full of uncertainty, and this was definitely one of them. Probably the top-most of his top three!

Maybe … he _didn’t_ want to be married. Maybe he only thought that he did because Mami had mentioned it so often in the past and he had convinced himself that that was what he wanted. Maybe he was better off alone. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? All those years of closing himself off and wrapping himself up with work … But if that was the case, then the level of horror and shame were swelling to monstrous levels. Putting aside your notion that two years was enough time to decide upon matrimony, Rafael realized that _he_ was to blame for setting any possible indications that he wanted marriage in the first place! He could feel his heart beginning to throb in a constricting manner. The cup was crushed in his closing grip, spilling what little bit of water he still had left onto the carpet. He couldn’t do this. But he had to do this. Needed to talk to you. He was a Harvard-schooled lawyer, goddammit, speaking was literally his job! But then, _why was it so hard to talk to you about this!?_

As the all too familiar sound of Rhonda’s voice rippled from the hallway and penetrated his thoughts, Rafael snapped. He wasn’t sure what was causing his heart to begin pulsing as he was (irritation from freaking Rhonda’s corporate-induced giddiness, the impending anxiety attack that was threatening to take him down right in the middle of a bridal shop) but whatever it was, the rapid palpitations became the only thing in his awareness. He didn’t remember getting up or even wandering off before Rhonda could make her way down the hall. All he could recall was the moment his warm face pressed against the cool, sticky sleekness of the plastic garment bags holding dresses that were not currently being observed for the trunk show.

Normally, Rafael would never try to act so bizarrely as to wander aimlessly down a quiet hall to find relief in a garment bag. But normally, Rafael wasn’t uncertain. Or anxious. Or thinking himself to the brink of insanity over marriage. Or in a bridal shop where you, through the magic of dress modeling, were pressuring him to put a ring on it. He did nothing to stop the shivering sigh that tumbled out of his mouth and into the atmosphere of stress that had officially engulfed him. All that mattered now was that he didn’t freak out any more than he already had.

“Rafi?” he heard you call in the distance.

The coolness of the garment bags evaporated in an instant. Rafael was surprised to learn that he could become any more tense than what he already was. But then, you always _did_ have the ability to make nearly everything feel all the more real to him.

“Rafi? Rafael?” You were getting closer! By the time Rafael considered taking a note from children in a department store and hiding amongst the racks, he’d heard it again: “Rafael?” It was quieter, more gentle as if directed at a scared animal. It was right behind him. It made Rafael’s shoulders bunch up in tension. He did not dare turn around. He couldn’t face you, not like this.

“Rafi, what’s the matter?” Your gentle voice kept up. “What’s wrong?” It was the same voice you used whenever he’d come home from a particularly bad day. The same voice you used whenever a trial wasn’t going so well or if he’d already lost it to begin with. It was the tone that could always make him feel better and comfortable.

And yet, in this moment, Rafael feared it would be the last time he’d ever hear it.

“Rafael,” you repeated, this time with a sense of sternness.

Against his better judgement, Rafael turned away from the sanctuary of plastic bags and to you. He regretted it the moment he laid eyes on you.

This was it. This was the dress. Ballroom style and strapless, yet another sweetheart neckline, but one embroidered with intricate lacework. Patterns that spread down to the bell of the dress before scattering into patches that resembled dripping bouquets of flowers. Organza fabric creating a light essence about the dress, as though it were made of clouds, all topped with a small waist belt of pearls and lace. It wasn’t cute like the first dress or sexy like the second. It was, in a word, perfection. 

The expression on your face, however, was not one worthy of yourself in such a gown. It was one of worry and confusion. And it hurt Rafael that he was the one who was causing it.

Your brows furrowed over your searching eyes. “Rafi?” you said quietly.

“… You look beautiful, Cariño,” he said in earnest. It was all he could manage. He needed you to at least know this. But, by the look of your face after this comment, he determined it might not have been the best option.

“Oh?” you questioned, brows adjusting to suggest a far more discontent emotion. You folded your arms in front of your chest. “Funny, that’s probably the most you’ve said this entire trip. And Rafi, I know female fashion may not be your specialty, but I know for certain that saying nothing really isn’t in your skill set. So please: _talk to me.”_

With you in front of him, dressed so magnificently yet looking so dissatisfied, Rafael couldn’t help but imagine if this would be how you looked on your wedding day. The wedding day that he wasn’t ready for but you expected. The wedding day you expected, but had no idea that he wasn’t ready for. He had to say something.

“Why are you being so quiet?” you inquired.

_Something, anything –_

“You can talk to me,” you insisted almost pleadingly. “Are you just tired? Is there something else?”

_Too soon, too old, too unsure—_

“I can’t help you if you don’t help me help you –”

“Idontwanttogetmarried!” From the way his body tensed and his eyes shut, it would be natural to assume that Rafael has blurted it out, said it loud enough for all the guests and workers at Something New-tique to hear. However, it was surprisingly tame. Almost enough to be drowned out by the sound of his heart beating into his ears.

“…What?” It was quiet. Fragile like glass, a hint of tremor in the ending heightened pitch. It thundered in his ears, above the sound of his heartbeat. He kept his eyes closed, too afraid to see the look on your face. He ruined it: your moment, this relationship, everything.

Rafael released a defeated sigh, realizing there was no point in trying to go back. “I … I’m not … I don’t want to get … married.” The final word was delivered in a shaky manner. You delivered no words at all. “I just – I’m sorry, I know I should’ve said something before but it’s just – Two years is too soon for me, okay?! I know that that’s probably what a lot of people your age are doing now but I’m not like that. I need time, I want to know everything I possibly can about you, I just feel that two years is way too little time to do that and – ” Wait. What was –

“Oho – my god! Rafi, you thought – ” Your sentence was caught off by another giggle, louder than the one that had made Rafael stop his rambling in the first place. _This_ face was much more suited for the gown you were wearing: rosy in the cheeks, each held up by the corner of a laughing smile. And yet, Rafael couldn’t share in the mirth or even understand it. 

In fact, his initial reaction besides confusion was that you were about to use one of the many garment bags surrounding the two of you to smother him. He braced himself nervously for such when you, in your giggling state, placed a hand on his shoulder. … For support. Only for a moment, however, as you soon allowed yourself to somewhat collapse into his chest. In his continuously perplexed state, Rafael could feel you smiling into his chest, the occasional remaining chortle slipping out to bubble against him.

Well, it was certainly better than getting suffocated. Or hurting you. But that still, _why were you laughing?_

“Am I – am I missing something?” Rafael questioned. After all the range of emotions he’d gone through today, this sounded the most like his usual self: incredulous and demanding for answers.

It was when your face shifted to the side, allowing yourself to breathe, that you uttered, “Man, Rafi, I really shouldn’t have dragged you out of bed so early without breakfast, you don’t think straight when you’re like this!”

“I don’t get it. What’re you saying?”

You blew a raspberry of disbelief before stepping away from him. His face was, for only the second time all day, its usual, skeptical self. Yours, however, was its usual sarcastic self. “Seriously, Rafaelito? _Two years?_ Give me some credit, I love you, but two years to tie the knot? S’not happening!”

… ¿Perdón?

Even if the word did not escape his lips, the essence of it was riddled all over the man’s face. That same, funny, confused look of his that never failed to make you laugh and coo over him.

“Oh, Rafi,” you grinned, placing a hand to his cheek. “I scheduled an appointment here because, well, I had probably a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I took it. I thought that was clear enough.”

“Wait, wait …” Rafael’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “So what you said earlier was – ”

“The truth, the whole truth, and nothin’ but the truth,” you finished. You raised your right hand in oath. “So help me, God.”

Lips pursing, Rafael persisted, “And … You weren’t trying to do this … to get me to propose just yet?”

You groaned as you rolled your eyes. “ _No, Rafael!_ ” you insisted. “Seriously, I just wanted to have a fun little out-of-the-ordinary event with you, I swear. I mean, I wouldn’t mind marrying you _eventually_ ,” you shrugged. “Maybe another year or two down the line, but …” You glanced back at him and studied his features. “Though . . . I guess I can’t really be mad at you for thinking otherwise …” 

Sheepishly, you rubbed your arm out of embarrassment. “I guess it isn’t too farfetched to think that someone would use this as an opportunity to push their datemate into marriage . . . Aww, and to think I put you through that!” Once again, you wrapped your arms around Rafael’s abdomen. Only this time, he returned the embrace (albeit with some slight surprise on his end).

“I’m soooo sorry, Rafi,” your muffled apology rang against his chest. “I should’ve given you a heads up. . .” Pout in place, you readjusted your head so that your ear was against his heart. “This was supposed to be fun, but instead it got stressful for you. I got too excited …”

Well, you weren’t wrong. But then again, Rafael could only blame you so much. Based on the reactions of the other customers there – the people who really _were_ getting married – excitement seemed to come easily.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“What?” you pouted.

“You really do look beautiful. Enough to make me not want to panic as much.” You could hear the smile in that wonderful voice of his – the notably sarcastic one you loved.

“Yeah? Well, you made me run around the store looking like this. In hindsight, I’m not mad, though. I mean, it’s not the enchanted castle I was hoping to run around in a frilly dress but … it’ll do, Rafi. It’ll do.” Now it was his turn to offer a small laugh.

You two were going to be fine where you were.

Metaphorically, of course. Even as his chuckling dwindled, Rafael was pretty sure the two of you weren’t supposed to necessarily be back here.

“So,” he coughed, “you still want to try on dresses, now, or – ?”

At that, you dramatically pulled back, eyes widened. “Are you serious!? I fought my way tooth and nail to get this scheduled slot, I’m not leaving after just _three_ dresses! And there’s no telling when I’ll be able to wear something with a name like – ” You searched around the back of the dress for the tag to read it – “Dvani on it. If I’ll be able to wear a dress like this. I need to milk this opportunity for all that I can, Rafael! And besides,” you flashed him that grin he loved so much, “don’t I look like a princess?” You attempted to twirl gracefully, allowing the bell of the skirt to flair out just enough. As you came to a halt, facing him, you attempted to strike a cute pose, using the back of your hands to cradle a cheek as if you were a knock-off Disney princess.

To your effect, Rafael cracked a smirk. Not his usual, acerbic-natured one. Just the one he reserved for you.

“Yeah,” he admitted softly. The soft, yet thoroughly gleeful sound you made in response almost threatened the smirk to break into a full smile.

“Okay,” you decided. “Two more dresses and then we’re out of here. We can stop by that café you love for some real breakfast. I’ll even let you order a mimosa.”

“Sounds good. I need one after all this.”

“Fair enough.” Leaning forward yet again, you sealed the agreement with a kiss.

As you pulled away, leaving both parties on the same page of ease for the first time all day, you added in one more thing: “You know, it’s good that we got to talk about this before we tied the knot.” you joked, offering him a toothy grin. Judging by the subsequent laugh he gave, it was safe to assume that Rafael was fully back to normal.

And with that, you gathered the ballgown’s edges to retreat back to customer-friendly Rhonda. This time, Rafael’s eyes stayed on you the entire time.

It really _was_ a nice dress, really did make you look like a princess of some sort.

As he returned back to his assigned couch from earlier and got settled, Rafael prepared himself to more readily critique (or perhaps adore) whatever else Rhonda would have you march out in. But his mind always ventured back to that ballgown. In that moment, amongst the previously unbearable chaos, Rafael quietly decided: You _would_ get a chance to wear a dress like that. Maybe one even better.

_Someday._


End file.
